


Dive in head first

by deerna



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Holt Family Reunion (Voltron), Missions Gone Wrong, Non-Graphic Violence, Not Canon Compliant, Other, Rescue Missions, non-binary Pidge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-01-28
Packaged: 2019-03-10 20:12:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13508934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deerna/pseuds/deerna
Summary: Restless after the final battle against Zarkon and Shiro’s disappearance, Pidge secretly leaves with Lance to look for their brother and their lost leader.Caught by the Galra, the two Paladins are stuck in a cell waiting for someone to rescue them, but when it finally happens, it’s not who they expected it to be.[Written for the APHELION zine.]





	Dive in head first

**Author's Note:**

> It's been so long I almost forgot about this, but I'm excited nonetheless to finally be able to publish this on my profile!
> 
> APHELION Zine was an amazing experience, and I'd give my left kidney to be part of something like this again.  
> To all those who bought the anthology, we're forever grateful. Thanks for giving us a chance.
> 
> Read a few other public works on[tumblr](https://aphelionzine.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/APHELIONzine).

The walls of the cell were some kind of smooth metal, made of interlocking panels. Each panel was a different shape, and fit with the next in a different way, like a weird tridimensional puzzle. Pidge had been wondering for days if the pattern served a structural purpose, or if it was just aesthetic. There had to be some kind of video and audio feed network installed behind, because it was just stupid to leave that big of a threat such as two Paladins of Voltron unsupervised, but no telling buzzing or beeping came from under the metallic sheets.

In the room they could only hear Lance’s careful, wheezing, pained breathing. 

Pidge curled tighter on their side, willing back the tears that stung their eyes. They knew that it was all their fault, but they also knew that blaming themselves for it wasn’t going to help their and Lance’s situation any. They could torture themselves with “if onlys” all they wanted, but the fact was that they had once again acted on impatience and recklessness, and now they had to live with the consequences. 

_If only_ they hadn’t involved Lance in it, though. That was their only true regret.

Pidge was pretty used to getting into trouble because of their own actions. After all, diving in head first was part of their character; they knew that waiting was necessary, and that not knowing was a part of being human, but the simple fact that Pidge didn’t like either of those things meant that they always had worked towards cheats and shortcuts.

They had always been like that: little Katie couldn’t wait for the teacher to tell them things, so they read the textbooks ahead; they couldn’t wait for the next season of their favorite tv series to come out, so they taught themselves how to hack, so they could mine for (better) spoilers on the internet; they couldn’t trust the Garrison’s official intel about the Kerberos mission and their family members’ status, so they took another identity, infiltrated the space program, and spent hours on the roof of the academy facilities, listening into alien radio transmissions until _something_ happened.

Matt had always encouraged their inquisitiveness. He always said that Katie’s thirst for knowledge and the will to find new ways to get to it were going to take them places, whether they decided to become a scientist, like himself and their father, or not.

 _She’s gonna go far_. 

He had been right. The Green Paladin’s skillset consisted mainly of their hacking ability, and their understanding of software and technology. It was only because of them that they could translate Galra’s transmissions on the go, that they could use cloaking tech on their lion. A lot of the Castle’s system renovations made by Coran wouldn’t have been possible without Pidge’s input. They had made themselves practically indispensable.

 _She’s gonna go far, or put herself in a lot of trouble_. 

_If only_ Pidge had gone on that stupid mission by themselves.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Lance wheezed suddenly. “I know that big brain of yours can’t shut up half a second, but maybe you should try and get some sleep.” 

Pidge rolled over, and looked up at him. “Yeah well, I’m not very comfy.” They were both on the floor, Pidge laying down on the cold panels while Lance, cracked rib giving him grief every time he moved, had to sit up against the wall. “This place sucks. Next time I’m picking the hotel,” Pidge joked weakly. 

Lance started chuckling, only to gasp in pain when it jostled his injured side. “Wanna try to doze a bit against me? I’m not exactly Hunk-level cozy, but nobody is Hunk-level cozy. Except for Hunk himself, of course,” he rambled. “Anyway, I’m better than the floor, at least.” He stretched out his legs and patted invitingly his thighs. “Come on.”

Pidge crawled until they could put their head on Lance’s legs, and laid back down. “You’re the boniest pillow I’ve ever laid my head on.”

“Shhh, no words, only dreams now,” Lance shushed them. He started brushing their bangs back with a gentle hand, humming quietly some tune that Pidge didn’t recognize. 

It was so stupidly familiar and relaxing that Pidge couldn’t decide if they were going to doze off or start crying. 

\---

The inside of the Lions was much roomier than it seemed to be at a first look. Just right below the cockpit, next to the pilot's seat, a hidden trap door opened into quite a large space. It was big enough to be used as a tiny sleeping compartment, with the right supplies.

Since the Battle and Shiro’s disappearance, Pidge had been stocking it up with food.

They had taken their time to plan and prepare Green for the mission; they only had to run the last diagnostics and verify that the cloaking devices worked at maximum capacity, after the damage sustained during the last fight, and they were ready to go.

They had taken care to do everything carefully and gradually, so they weren't discovered, but nobody had actually batted an eye when they had started squirreling away suspicious amounts of goo. Pidge guessed that they weren't acting _too_ suspiciously; after all, they always spent time away from the common room, coding on their laptop in some remote room of the castle, or tinkering with Green's software in the hangar. 

Given the circumstances, the team had probably taken it as Pidge's way of mourning.

Everyone had been heavily affected by the Battle and by Shiro’s disappearance. Keith basically lived on the training deck, fighting against the bots until he couldn’t physically move anymore; Allura occupied the Castle library, trying to find info about her new powers, throwing herself into the research body and soul, while Coran had decided to revamp said library cataloguing system (though Pidge suspected it was an excuse to keep an eye on the princess); Hunk haunted the kitchen, stress baking enough sets of lenses to repair a thousands teludavs; and Lance-

“Hey Pidge!” 

Startled, Pidge let out a yelp and almost let the computer drop. They luckily managed to catch themselves before the cable could unplug and interrupt the diagnostic run- Pidge really couldn’t spare another varga to start over. 

“Lance! You scared the shit out of me, what the hell?!” They yelled, turning towards him, a hand curled protectively around the laptop. 

Lance was standing in the middle of the hangar, a plate piled high with squares of something brown and crumbly in his hands. “Uh, sorry,” he apologized. “I was just- you didn’t show up for dinner yesterday, nor for breakfast this morning, and I just- you know, Hunk switched from baking lenses to actually edible space brownies so I thought-” he rambled on, and then stopped, just raising the plate like it was sufficient explanation. 

Lance had been doing that a lot, in the past days: hunting them all down and forcing them to get some sleep or some food in them. Knowing him, Pidge knew that it didn’t have much to do with the fact that he was ‘the mom friend’ (that had always been Hunk, even back when they were three cadets at the Garrison), though he did have a bit of a big brother complex sometimes; it was just that Lance often felt lonely. Helping them out like that was his way to seek out company. 

It was still better than the uncanny stillness Lance had fell into right after the battle, when he had sat down on the main deck to look at the stars outside for a solid hour, dead still, his eyes lost in the distance, seemingly deaf and blind to whatever was happening around him.

Pidge balanced the computer on Green’s paw, assured themselves that the diagnostics check up was running smoothly, and got closer to Lance. They blinked at the brownies, and picked one up. Up close, they looked like packed dirt, complete with greenish grass-like bits and sand-like crumbly edges. “Are you sure they’re edible?”

“They don’t look great, I know,” Lance grimaced. “But they’re actually pretty good! I couldn’t tell you what they taste like, exactly, but they’re pretty decent? I had some earlier.” 

Pidge hesitated, and then took a bite. The pastry was definitely brownie-like in texture, but the taste was completely off. It was a bit sweet and a bit savoury, in a way that reminded Pidge of chocolate, but that also wasn’t like chocolate at all. “It’s pretty good,” they admitted, chewing.

Lance beamed at them. “Right? There’s a ton left in the ice box but they keep pretty well at room temperature too, we’re not probably going to run out for the next century or something.” He took one for himself, and bit into it. “So, what you’re working on?” he asked with careful casualness, glancing at the crates of supplies that Pidge hadn’t loaded yet. 

Something flickered in his eyes, and Pidge realized that Lance already knew. He was just letting them a chance to explain themselves before calling them out on whatever bullshit they tried to feed him.

Fuck. Not as careful as they thought they had been, then.

“Nothing,” Pidge muttered, taking another bite. “The usual.”

It wasn’t a lie. Pidge’s first and foremost had always been finding their family. That hadn’t changed. Once again, they were preparing themselves to try and find out what happened to them. It was almost ironic that, this time, they were looking for Shiro, too. 

They knew that they should’ve waited for the team to be ready. Voltron and the Blade of Marmora needed time to regroup and to mourn the losses they had suffered during the battle; on the other hand, _Pidge_ needed to do something about it. 

Lance huffed. “Come ooon,” he whined, gesturing vehemently at the hangar. The brownies wobbled dangerously close to the edge of the plate. “I know you’ve been up to something. I know you’re planning to leave.” 

Pidge sighed. Yep, definitely busted. “Congratulations, you’re right. Is this you coming down to warn me that Coran and the princess are going to whoop my ass and that I should give up and surrender to my destiny?” 

Lance gasped. “I am offended. I would never tell on a pal’s secret plans! I didn’t tell anyone.” 

Pidge frowned. “Why?”

“Because I want you to ask me to come with you, of course!” 

Pidge almost choked on their own spit. “ _What_?”

“Look,” Lance started, putting the plate next to Pidge’s laptop (the diagnostics run was coming along really nicely). He leaned against Green before continuing. “I know I’m not the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to noticing stuff, but _I know you_ , Pidge. You _hate_ staying put! You hate that everyone is doing their thing instead of planning Voltron’s next move. You’re going to pull another ‘Katie Holt breaks into the Garrison at night to steal classified info about space program’ and you’re not going to tell anybody about it.” 

“I shouldn’t have told you that story.” 

Lance ignored the comment and pointed at the crates. “You’re packing, and you’re been even less around than usual. It wasn’t that hard to put two and two together.”

“And now you expect me to ask you to come, so you can babysit me?”

“No, dumbass, I’m going to come with you to _help_.” He nervously smoothed out a non-existent wrinkle from his jeans. “I’m a Paladin of Voltron too. Saving people is what we do, right?” 

“Still not convinced that you should come with me.” 

“Okay, maybe I don’t like the idea of you being out there alone,” Lance admitted, exasperation and worry flashing briefly on his face. “But I know that anything I will say wouldn’t be enough to stop you. So I thought… the saying goes that if you cannot stop them, join them?” 

His earnestness was doing complicated things to Pidge’s guts. Lance not trying to fight them on their decision to act without the others’ permission, it was almost uncomfortably reminiscent of the times Matt covered Katie while she disassembled the old radio in the kitchen behind their mother’s back. It was the same ‘we could get in trouble for this, but I’m going to let you do your thing and have your back’ feeling that they could read into Matt’s expression back then. 

“I don’t have a _real_ plan,” Pidge warned him. “It could get us killed.” 

Lance barked a laughter, tired and mirthless. “This _war_ could get us killed.” 

Pidge couldn’t reply to that. “Welcome aboard then, I guess.” 

\---

“Tell me the plan again,” Lance murmured, eyes half closed, head leaning against the wall, as Pidge basically dug a groove in the metal floor with their restless pacing.

“It’s not gonna work, Lance. You can barely walk!”

“I know,” Lance rasped with a smile. “Just talk. It helps taking my mind off- you know,” he gestured down his body, bruised and bloodied under his tattered pilot suit. The only thing that remained intact of his Paladin armor were his boots.

Pidge swallowed and took a deep breath. “We let the Galra in. As soon as the door opens, we get our asses off the floor, so that our boots are the only things that touch the metal, I trigger the loose wiring I found behind the bed, and hope to electrify the floor. The Galra hopefully gets stunned, we steal his weapon, and we book it out of here, to the escape pods.” 

“What if we find other guards?” 

“You’re our sharpshooter. Shoot them between the eyes and we’re gonna be fine.”

“Heck yes,” Lance smiled, tiredly. He shifted a bit, groaning low when he accidentally put his weight on a particularly tender spot. 

He was really in a bad shape. They both were, to be honest, but because of his big mouth Lance always got more of a beating, when it was his turn to be tortured. Pidge had scolded him about that more than once, but Lance seemed to think that if the Galra got mad at his jabs, they would leave Pidge, who tended to stay silent, alone. It was sort of true; apparently the Galra punished prisoners who mocked them more often and cruelly than those who didn’t talk at all.

It was quiet for a while, then Lance broke the silence again.

“Do you think they’re looking for us?”

“Yes,” Pidge answered without hesitation. “I’m sure that Green managed to get them, tell them where we are. They’re probably turning the galaxy upside down as we speak. We just need to hold on a little longer.” 

Lance hummed. “We need to tell them about Shiro.” He laughed. Pidge had started to hate Lance’s laughter. The more they heard it, the faker it sounded. “That’s so ironic, isn’t it? We went looking for him, and he never moved at all.” It wasn’t ironic, it was terrible. 

The Galra seemed to know many things about Voltron. At the very least, they knew that Pidge was more knowledgeable in the Lions’ mechanics, while Lance was more of a tactician, because their questions were usually pretty focused on their specialized fields: Lance got questions about their weapons, their forces, their alliances with other aliens; Pidge got questions about Altean tech, about the inner workings of the Lions’ hardware and software, how forming Voltron worked. 

On the other hand, the druid that was tasked with doing the questioning, a cloaked and masked individual that the guards called Vrinor, while already well versed in the topic they were asking about, didn’t seem to know how interrogations worked. They seemed completely unaware of the fact that, as they formulated their questions, usually in a form that could be answered with a no/yes reply, they were giving away a lot of things that _Pidge themselves_ didn’t know. 

They ended up learning from Vrinor a lot of things about quintessence, for example. It apparently defied a few laws of physics; it was what fuelled the Lions, but not really- it was a special variety that could be replenished simply by piloting them (Pidge hadn’t decided yet if it was because of something that worked like a dynamo, where energy got transformed from one form to another, or if it was just another magic bullshit thing like Allura’s newfound powers); the Lions’ quintessence had to be compatible with their pilot’s quintessence- which worked a lot like blood types, in a way; and finally, it was the peculiar quality of the Lions’ quintessence that made possible for the pilots to _physically_ enter the astral plane. 

“It’s rather fascinating,” Vrinor sighed, casually dragging their sharp claws against Pidge’s skin, a reminder of punishment, as they distractedly rambled on, “There’s almost no information about this, you know? We know that it happens just because His Imperial Majesty used to- well, we just know. The only mention of this we found in some ancient texts recovered on Kladmal II- it’s said that the plane can be used as a quick way to cross big distances, as a way to get where the Paladin is needed the most I suppose, but more probably it’s a safety measure, since according to those books it can happen during combat-”

So Pidge had put together two and two. Shiro had been in danger, during the battle. The Black Lion had sensed that, and she had absorbed his body to the astral plane. They could be wrong, but as things were it was the only thing that kind of made sense. 

There was only one thing about it that bothered them, though. 

“Why do you think Black didn’t spit him out when she landed back on the Castle?” Pidge asked, finally stopping their pacing to sit next to Lance.

Lance shrugged. “Hard to say. Ancient space cats fuelled by magic don’t really think like we humans do. I don’t know what Green feels like in your mind, but Blue sometimes is-” he gestured vaguely, as if it explained anything, “Just like that. You think you get what they’re trying to say but in the end it’s just- stuff. Maybe she sensed something that she didn’t like and decided that keeping Shiro out of the way was safer than the alternative.” 

Pidge frowned. “Do you think the Castle is currently housing something dangerous?” 

“The Blade is pretty dangerous,” Lance reasoned, “A bunch of Galra armed with stabby swords isn’t the best thing around for safety, even though they’re on our side.” He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall, voice lowering. “Especially since they’re all mourning. Loss can make people act like they’re not themselves.” 

Something in his tone reminded Pidge of Lance’s vacant staring at the stars, after the battle. They forced themselves to push back the memory with a shiver. 

\---

The first explosion came at night.

Or, what Pidge and Lance had decided it was night. There was no way to know what kind of time cycle the Galra kept the ship on, because their cell lights were always on, probably in an attempt to keep them awake as long as possible, to weaken and disorient them; but every day a Galra brought them something that narrowly qualified as food; every three meals there was a longer period of quiet.

It was Lance’s turn to sleep that night, and Pidge’s to be his pillow. They were sitting up against the wall with Lance laying between their legs, leaning on their chest, and they had their arms loosely wrapped around him so that he wouldn’t jostle his own ribs in his sleep. The wheezing was still pretty bad, but it seemed like he managed to rest a little that way, and to Pidge it was good enough. 

They unfortunately couldn’t help but startle at the faint echo of the deflagration, accidentally squeezing Lance in alarm and waking him up. 

“Ouch, Pidge, what the hell,” Lance mumbled still half dozing, whacking them in the thigh.

“Sorry. Didn’t you hear that?”

“Hear wha-” 

The second explosion was _much closer_. Sleep forgotten, they both scrambled to the closed door, trying to hear whatever was going on on the other side. Galra shouting in strange hoarse tones, their heavy steps and shots ricocheted all through the halls. 

“It’s them,” Lance whispered, smiling even though he’d been holding onto his own side with a pained grimace only seconds before. “It _has_ to be them. Can you feel Green?” 

Pidge was going to answer a sullen _no_ , but then their mind was flooded by the familiar, strangely comforting touch that was their Lion’s mind. Green’s relief felt like leather and bark, the crackling of branches in the wind. It almost brought tears into their eyes. “Yes. _They’re here_.” 

For a long moment they just grinned goofily at each other, too stupidly happy to even say anything, and then suddenly they were hugging, laughing and crying and whining because _ouch Pidge_ , they had accidentally jabbed him in his bad side _again_. 

There was another explosion, even close and even more powerful than the previous one, and the floor suddenly tipped sideways, almost sending them tumbling across the floor. 

“Are you alright?”

“I’ve been better,” Lance answered through gritted teeth, pulling himself on his feet. 

Pidge nodded. “We better get ourselves ready to run or whatever, as soon as that door opens. It’s not really clear, but I think that Green is trying to tell me that they’re remotely hacking the locks.” 

Lance huffed a laughter. “And then we book it out of here, straight for the escaping pods?”

Pidge smiled back. “Nah, straight to her. I think she literally jammed herself in the side of the ship to give us easy access.” Apparently _that’s_ why the third explosion had seemed so damn close. It hadn’t been an explosion at all; it had been the impact of the Lion piercing through the ship’s hull. 

“Holy hell, Pidge, remind me to never try and kidnap you. Your cat mom is scary as shit.” 

“You know it.” 

As they were replying, the lock clicked, and the door opened with a hiss. Pidge stiffened, expecting the usual Galra guard behind it, but the hallway was completely empty. 

“It’s clear. Let’s go.” 

They arranged themselves so that Lance could lean on Pidge if needed, Lance’s lanky arm around their shoulders and Pidge’s grabbing his thin waist, and started running for the most limping and painful three-legged race of the galaxy. Pidge took the lead, blinding dragging them through hallways that looked all the same, with only Green’s mind guiding them like a beacon. 

There weren’t guards around, probably distracted by the deflagrations booming in the distance on the other side of the ship, but Lance’s hand twitched all the same in the corner of their eye, clearly itching for his gun. Pidge missed their bayard too, but at this point they couldn’t go back and retrieve them; their lives were the priority right now. 

After running for what seemed forever along the walls, the familiar green head of their Lion was the best thing they had ever seen in their life, jaw already open to let them in. “There she is!”

As soon as they climbed in, Green clenched her mouth and wrenched herself out of the ship with a loud, screeching noise of metal against metal. Triumph and happiness wrapped Pidge’s mind like a blanket. “I’m happy to be back too,” they murmured, patting affectionately the smooth inside of her mouth even as the Lion’s haphazard movements threatened to throw them off balance. 

“This is where I realize we’re still miles away from a cryopod,” Lance whined, as he kept crawling up the narrow space towards the cockpit, wheezing back in his breath; the adrenaline rush from their escape had helped a little, but it was wearing off and Lance was back to wincing from the pain. 

Pidge smiled, still a bit incredulous that they had actually _made it_ , they were _out_. “I stashed painkillers somewhere under the trapdoor.”

“Thank God.” 

“You can call me Pidge,” they joked as they entered the cockpit and- froze on the spot.

They had expected it to be empty, but there was someone sitting in the pilot seat. 

“Sorry for the brusque start, but the guys couldn’t act as distraction for any longer,” Shiro apologized without turning around, flying the Green Lion in a smooth arch around a smaller Galra fighter ship. “Are you guys all right?”

“Shiro?” Lance croaked. 

“We’re battered, but alive. Bayards are gone, though. We couldn’t retrieve them,” Pidge managed to choke out a report as they slowly walked closer. “Shiro, how…?”

“I know you must be really confused,” he answered, sounding sort of sheepish. “But I’m okay. I never was in danger, I promise you.” 

In the corner of their eye, Lance sat on the floor next to the pilot seat, curled up with his face against his knees and started shaking. Pidge politely pretended to ignore him, leaving him to his privacy, as they talked more with Shiro. “It’s the quintessence thing, right?” 

“I honestly could not say,” he shrugged. “But-”

He was interrupted by a video feed on his left. The person on the screen wasn’t anyone who Pidge could recognize, and was dressed in a strange dove-colored flight uniform with a familiar crest on their chest. “Shiro, what’s your status?” they said, in a strangely clicking tone, like their mouth wasn’t made to speak that language.

“Package retrieved, I haven’t checked on them yet though. I had a fighter on my tail,” Shiro replied smoothly, clearly acquainted with the strange alien. 

“Pidge,” Lance called, voice hoarse. “Those painkillers?”

“Right,” Pidge shook themselves from the surprise, and started rummaging in the secret compartment. “I have a bunch of first aid things here, let me give you a once over.” 

They cleaned and bandaged the worst of the cuts, spread ointment on the bruises and wrapped Lance’s rib as best as they could, until the communication clicked off and Shiro finally stepped away from the console, Green taking over the piloting duties. 

“We’re in the clear, now. Khaller and Prijik managed to get the Galra off our tails so we should have a smooth ride to the mothership,” he informed them as he kneeled next to them, surveying the damage on Lance’s body and frowning. “They don’t have cryopods there, but their health packs are very effective. You’ll be as good as new, Lance.” 

“That’s great news. I’m just happy that my rib decided to stay _inside_ my chest like it should, and didn’t try to poke out. I’m also really happy to see you,” Lance slurred, hand flopping awkwardly against Shiro’s chest as the powerful painkillers kicked in. 

Shiro smiled down at him, and helped Pidge rearrange him on the bedroll they had spread on the floor. Lance was out like a light as soon as his head hit the soft material. Pidge smiled; he probably had missed having a _real_ pillow for once. 

“It’s only a crack, I don’t think he’s actually broken it. He would’ve been in much more pain,” Shiro commented, rolling Lance’s sleeping form on his side. 

Pidge suddenly felt tired, the effort of the escape catching up with them. But they needed some answers, first. “Do you wanna explain why you’re answering to some random alien instead of Allura? And why the heck there was a _Rebel Alliance_ patch on the breast of their uniform?” 

“It’s Black’s fault, actually,” Shiro sighed. “I don’t know what happened, exactly, but during the battle I got thrown on this- well, I guess you could call it astral plane? It was like when I went bonding with her while you were at the space mall.” Shiro waited for them to nod before going on. “One moment I was into Black’s cockpit, and the next I was on this strange ship and-” he stopped and then smiled to himself for some reason. “Well, I had no way to go back to the Castle so I stayed with them. They are trying to take down the Galra like us, so I offered them to become our allies, as soon as we could get in contact with the Castle. The crew is mostly comprised of ex-prisoners and their families- there are actual _second generation_ rebels on the mothership, it’s pretty amazing.” 

“So the Castle is out of reach,” Pidge frowned. 

“Yes. Green found us on her own. I think she sensed me? I’m guessing we were closer, so she came to us instead of going and looking for the Castle.”

“She’s smart like that,” Pidge grinned. They felt her simultaneously preen and scoff at the praise. 

“We’re almost there, Shiro,” the alien’s voice came from the comms. 

“Thank you, Khaller,” Shiro answered, then pointed outside. “There she is.” 

The mothership was pretty big. Not as big as their Castle, but there was a lot more activity around it. It looked like a weirdly misshapen building, like a futuristic hotel. Lots of smaller ships queued in and out two tiny gates on the side of the ship, and a fleet of fighters patrolled the perimeter. 

“It looks like a floating city,” Pidge commented.

“It works like one, in many ways. They considered to establish a base planetside, but this is more practical. No ownership issues, and it’s quicker to relocate. It doesn’t look it, but it’s really fast.”

Green and the two fighters that were escorting her apparently had a preferential entry on the back of the ship. As they approached the hangar, Shiro told Pidge about all sort of things about the giant ship-city, light and excited as they had never seen him. The team had worried sick about Shiro for all that time, but clearly those months away from the Castle had done him a lot of good. He looked a lot better, more rested, and more motivated than ever.

“How do you know all this stuff?” 

“Let’s say I found myself in a privileged position. As the Black Paladin, I am the Leader of Voltron, after all,” Shiro answered in a very serious tone, but the way the corner of his mouth was twitching betrayed the line as humorous. 

“You haven’t answered about the patch yet,” Pidge tsked, as Green gracefully touched down. 

“I’m pretty sure you’ll know the answer as soon as you meet the leader of the Rebellion.” 

Pidge’s heart skipped a beat. “What are you saying, Shiro?”

“Permission to enter, Paladin?” a voice called from just outside Green’s open jaw. “We’ve been notified that medical assistance is required.” 

Shiro looked at Pidge. Fair enough, since it was their Lion. “Come on in.” 

A grey-skinned alien poked their head in, holding up a small piece of tech that looked like a portable scanner and using it to beckon Pidge in. “Leader wants to meet the Green one, Paladin.” 

“Go ahead,” Shiro smiled. “I’ll stay with Lance. He’s in good hands, I promise you.” 

Pidge nodded and rushed past the alien medic, suddenly nervous. 

After all, they knew already who the Leader of the Rebellion was. Shiro was the most transparent person they had ever met. And there was only one person they both knew, who was so obsessed with Star Wars that they couldn’t pass up the chance to use the Rebel Alliance patch for a _real_ rebel alliance. 

“You’re such a nerd, you know that?” Pidge told their brother, who was waiting for them just outside their Lion’s mouth, grinning like a fool and unshed tears glistening in his eyes. 

“I couldn’t help it. Are those my glasses?” 

“Is your code name Princess Leia by any chance?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re aboard the Mothership Organa, show some respect.”

Unable to keep up the ridiculous banter another minute longer, Pidge gave in and rushed forward to wrap their arms around Matt, burying their face in his dumb neck warmer, tears flowing freely. “I’m glad you’re okay,” they mumbled, wetly. “Dad?”

“We’re still looking for him,” Matt answered, voice low and almost as wet sounding. “God, Katie, you’re so grown up. When Shiro told me about Voltron and that you were the Green Paladin I couldn’t believe it. How did we end up like this?”

“Aliens. Old Graham was right,” Pidge laughed through their tears, remembering the old conspiracy theorist that lived at the end of their street. “And it’s Pidge, now.” 

“Pidge,” Matt corrected himself. “I don’t know why, but it fits.” 

Pidge was pretty used to getting into trouble because of their own actions. After all, it was part of their character, though they knew that waiting was necessary, and not knowing was a part of being human. Sometimes, diving head first was reckless and stupid.

This time, it had been worth it. 


End file.
